


Overdue

by Anuna



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot, Sexy Times, based on season 3, continuation from previous fic, the yacht makes an appereance, these two are just too hot together and need to frickle frackle already
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 18:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4971535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anuna/pseuds/Anuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye and Ward go off the grid and enjoy sea, sunshine and champagne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overdue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 30 day smut challenge. Prompt: the yacht. Yes, folks, that yacht. Why would you have a yacht and... not use it? (by which i am liberally assuming that Ward claimed ownership of said yacht. I wouldn't mind if he did and took Skye for a ride.)
> 
> I might not be able to write one tomorrow, because busy RL day, but I will try nevertheless. 
> 
> I dedicate this fic to evieoh, who made gorgeous artwork for my "Bad romance" series. Thank you sweetie! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Honestly, what is the point of having a yacht if you never sail?

 

Skye thinks maybe that is a good enough reason for spending a day or two on a yacht. Ward's pretty, ridiculously expensive looking Hydra yacht. (well, it's just a white yacht, no Hydra logo anywhere, but. Hydra yacht. That's what she's calling it in her mind.)

 

It's probably stolen, she thinks, just like the bottle of Moet she found in one of the kitchen cupboards. Ward because he doesn't fit into the entire obscenely rich pampered criminal thing, nor does he strike her like a type who would indulge in leisure time such as cruising. But here they are, off the grid, and she decides she won't worry herself too much. The weather is great, the sea is calm and right here she feels she had forgotten what the sunshine is really like. There's just one downside – she doesn't have a bathing suit.

 

Which is why she opts walking around with her bum and everything else completely bare. Not that Ward is going to mind.

 

She finds him on the upper deck, easily sprawled on a cushy sofa, with rolled up pant legs and distant look in his eyes. It gives Skye a pause, even though he looks instantly fuckable. She bites her lip in front of a dilemma that's lazily lounging in front of her. He looks like a completely different person from what she remembers, and yet he feels so goddamn familiar.

 

It takes a moment before he snaps out of whatever funk he's in. He looks at her and she can literally see heat filling his previously empty gaze. There's something about the notion that she can make him react like that, that makes her ego swell.

 

“What's with the champagne?” he asks, looking at the bottle and two flute glasses she brought.

 

“I never tried this thing,” she says. “So I thought, what the heck.”

 

She realizes her choice of words only when she's done saying them. He gives her a bittersweet smile, but it's a _smile_. She walks over and comfortably straddles his hips, noting the way he looks at her, all of her.

 

“Would you do the honors?” she asks. Predictably, he is perfectly skilled at this task, just like he is in anything she watched him do. There is barely a pop when the bottle is opened and no liquid is spilled. Skye grabs one glass and he pours the champagne in it.

 

Skye lifts the glass as he watches her with amusement. There's something reminiscent of the old times – she is grabbing an opportunity and he's opting out, letting her enjoy herself. She takes a sip and closes her eyes. She's not used to champagne, but she supposes this is good. Ward is still looking at her amiably, with mild curiosity as his fingers spread over her hips.

 

“So? Does it live up the hype?”

 

“I don't know, Ward,” she says honestly. “You're the former rich kid. You tell me,” she says offering him the glass. Her breasts are swaying in front of his face, which was a completely deliberate move on her part, but his self discipline must be pretty amazing.

 

Except then he doesn't drink from the glass. He tips it just enough so that the liquid spills below Skye's collar bone and over her breasts. After which Ward proceeds to lick it off of her, chasing the tiny droplets over her left breast, until the nipple is in his mouth.

 

He gives her a dark, dirty look that makes her shiver and makes her throat go dry. Her fingers reach for his belt and he helps her along without the need for her to move too much. Few moments later he is equally naked like her and she kisses him. He tastes like darkness and desire, like bright expensive champagne and things she has never truly gotten over. His hands settle on her breasts, but only briefly – soon his thumb slips between her completely wet folds and enters her.

 

Skye lets herself moan and close her eyes as she rides his hand. He lets her build up the rhythm and the pressure before he pulls his hand away and brings his thumb to his lips.

 

“Delicious,” he says with a filthy smirk.

 

He's completely right. She's not a princess – she is stubborn and dirty and alive and he makes her feel that way even more. His entire being is a challenge, an opposition that keeps her on her toes and keeps her mind spinning. And he's the best fuck she's ever had.

 

He enters her and they both gasp, both pushing to complete the collision. Skye puts her hands on his shoulders and he holds her hips. Their gazes are locked when she starts moving, riding him slowly and gasping softly. He doesn't do anything except looking at her, and what strikes her is the realization that it's the same dazed look he had after she kissed him for the first, second, third time.

 

Grant Ward is a lot of things, including a liar, but this he does honestly.

 

That is somehow all she needs right now.

 

Skye closes her eyes and leans down to kiss him, slow and sloppy. His rough fingers on her ass feel perfect and he picks up the rhythm when she forgets to move, distracted by the inability to breathe against the assault of his lips.

 

“Fuck me hard,” she says, because he was right. It's something what she sorely missed, someone who would rise up to meet the challenge and push her further in any way, including this.

 

“As you wish,” he says, rolling her nipple under his tongue and licking a hot trail up her neck. He kisses her hard and pulls out to rearrange their position. Ward is nothing if not a quick learner and soon she's sprawled over the sofa with her butt in the air as he fucks her from behind. She tells him where and how and how fast and he complies. Skye comes, screaming her ownership towards the vast sea around them and he continues to fuck her until he's done.

 

Later, when she straddles his hips for a second time she feels like all of this – the empty bottle of champagne and two of them fucking like the outside world doesn't exist – is long overdue.

 


End file.
